Where Nightmares Come True
by Laughy-Taffy the Grape
Summary: Merlin sat up in bed, stretched comfortably, and declared that it would be a lovely day. Unfortunately, it was at this point that the day decided to prove to him, through a series of increasingly alarming events, just how un-lovely it could be. No slash.
1. Morning

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN: **Hi there! I hope you enjoy my newest story, it's been eating my brain for the last while. Have fun reading it! ;)

* * *

**Chapter One: **Morning

_She saw fire and ash, and Merlin smiling like he was having the best day ever. She saw Arthur, sword in hand and face horrified, Merlin's name on his lips. She saw a young boy with guilty eyes and heard two voices, one her own, saying: "Destroying the vessel would have destroyed the spell, too." And a voice she knew well and hated: "How did you know my name was Merlin?". She saw Arthur's knights, and a path that she knew was in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Scenes of terror, blood, and destruction._

_And worst of all-a monster. She tried to reel away from it, but there was no escaping its jaws._

_A woman watched her with mad eyes. "Help us, Morgana. Arthur doesn't know what he has unleashed."_

_She awoke._

* * *

It was a beautiful day. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, softly lighting Camelot, softening its edges and making it seem even more majestic than normal. Birds were chirping, people were laughing, wagons were trundling on down the roads, and Gaius was puttering in the main room.

Merlin didn't really want to get up, tucked up as snugly as he was. But he had to rise sometime, and he didn't really feel like falling asleep again either.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up and stretchedstretchedstretched his arms high into the air, feeling the muscles tighten and relax, straightening his back to the utmost. He rolled his head every which way.

Merlin smiled. "Today," he announced to nobody in particular, "is going to be a lovely day."

Oh, how that confident declaration would haunt him, how he would struggle to explain why he had felt with such passion that the day _would _be lovely, when many would strongly disagree.

But not knowing nor suspecting the events to come, Merlin hopped-literally hopped-out of his bed and set about preparing for the day.

As he set out for Arthur's chambers, piece of bread in hand, he tossed a "See you at lunch, Gaius!" over his shoulder.

Gwen wasn't in when Merlin entered the royal chambers, but that was hardly surprising: she often spent the early mornings making sure the household was running smoothly. That of course meant that there was no buffer between Merlin and his usually irate master, but he didn't mind. He'd been dealing with _that _for five years.

Arthur was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with a serious expression. His right hand lay on his left elbow.

**"**Your arm hurting you again, Sire?" Merlin asked as he set the breakfast tray on the table.

A few days before, Arthur and the knights had followed rumors of a mad sorceress living in the woods, rumors that had turned out to be true. No one had been killed, but as she escaped, the sorceress had clipped Arthur's arm with a spell that had pained him intermittently ever since.

**"**What?" Arthur said, blinking. "No, no, it's fine."

But as he stood up, Merlin noticed he didn't use the injured arm to lever himself.

**"**Then what," Merlin said, "may I ask, is the trouble with you this fine morning? That sorceress is going to have to lick her wounds for a few days, and-"

**"**No, it's not that," the king sighed, plopping down in his seat. "Sir Leon came in early this morning with urgent news."

Merlin _hmm_ed in lieu of the obvious question as he placed the king's breakfast on the table.

**"**Some sort of creature has been stealing livestock from the outlying villages. A petition for knightly intervention came this morning."

Merlin nodded in sympathy; he understood the desperation of the villagers. To lose their animals would be to lose their livelihoods-and their food source. "What kind of creature?"

Arthur shrugged. "A horrible monster, if the reports are to be believed. It hasn't attacked any humans yet, but I suppose it's only a matter of time." He sighed and rested his forehead in his hand for a moment. "Besides that, there's that sorceress roaming the forest at will. Really, the last thing we need is a mutant chicken-thief."

Merlin examined his king's face. "Come and have your breakfast, Sire," he said, allowing his good mood to color his voice. "You'll feel better."

Arthur, hearing the tone, looked up in disgust but obeyed with a roll of his eyes. "Someone got up on the right side of the bed this morning," he muttered. "Do I need to bury you under some chores so you can't annoy everyone in the castle?"

Merlin grinned impishly. "Sorry," he said, utterly unrepentant. "Nothing you do or say can spoil my mood today."

Arthur grunted. "We'll see about that," and proceeded to give Merlin his work-list for the day. Even that could not dampen Merlin's mood.

Finally, Arthur gave up and stood. "Sir Leon's putting together a party of knights to take against the creature."**  
****"**Are you going, Sire?"

**"**No, I have other duties here." If Arthur's face was anything to go by, he wasn't very happy about that.

He picked up some papers that lay on his desk and moved towards the door. "Laundry, Merlin," he said as he opened it. "Oh, and I tore a hole in my best red shirt; fix it, would you?"

And then he was gone. Merlin, still grinning, shook his head fondly.

**"**He says that like he's not married to the best seamstress in all of Camelot . . ."

Merlin went over to the wardrobe and grabbed the laundry basket. As he bent over, he felt a funny feeling, like he was being watched. And something else, as if . . . as if . . . but he dismissed that thought as ridiculous as he turned around.

There was someone standing behind him, someone who hadn't been there a few seconds earlier. At the sight of the figure, Merlin dropped the basket in shock. A cry of horror rose from him, and his only thought as he took an involuntary step backwards into the wardrobe was _It's finally happened._

* * *

DUNDUNDUN! We're off to a good start: a cliffy already! Any guesses as to who the surprise visitor is? And _what's_ finally happened?

And for those of you preparing to point out what I've forgotten, don't worry: I'm putting the quote at the end of the story. Because who knows how many quotes I'd have to pick if I tried to do one for each chapter.

All the chapters will be on the short side, so hopefully that means I can update quicker. *crosses fingers* Let me know what you thought in a review!


	2. The Scream

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN: **This chapter answers some questions . . . and raises a few more . . . Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two:** The Scream

Arthur had a lot on his mind. There was a monster attacking his peoples' livelihoods, a sorceress haunting the woods, and, to top it all off, Merlin was in a good mood. Well, that hadn't been so bad, but it was a little bit annoying, since Merlin never seemed to conform to the mood that Arthur wanted him to have. In this case, some appropriate anxiety for what might come in the future would not have gone amiss.

The king shook his head as he shut the door to his chambers and started down the corridor. He was just thinking about heading back and asking Merlin to beg him a sweet roll from the kitchens when something happened that made him stop.

A sound came from his room. Arthur had only heard this exact sound two or three times in his life, but he knew immediately that it was Merlin.

Screaming.

His brain took about one second to overcome sudden panic, and then he was turned around and flying back the way he had come. The door was not an obstacle, not when he was Arthur and frightened for his friend.

Adrenaline made it easy to take in the scene in an instant, and so he did.

Merlin was backed up against the wardrobe, eyes wide and hand clutching for his heart. The laundry lay forgotten on the floor. And before the terrified manservant was-

Arthur's sword seemed to leap into his hand.

-Dragoon the Great.

The old sorcerer turned from his curious, if contemptuous, survey of Merlin to face Arthur. "Ah, there you are," he said, squinting at the king standing frozen before him. "We need to talk."

Arthur stared, and the words of Gaius about how Dragoon was not a dangerous as he seemed flashed through his mind. He took a deep breath, willing himself not to react without thinking first. "Yes," he said, endeavoring for calm (but oh, the sorcerer was standing so close to Merlin, too close, and that made it difficult). "Yes, I do believe you're right."

Dragoon looked surprised at how easily Arthur had acquiesced, and again the king was struck with a feeling of familiarity. "Well then, why don't we arrange a time and place to meet?" Dragoon suggested, his voice deepening. "Midnight tonight, in the Valley of the Fallen Kings sound alright to you?"

Arthur lowered his sword and stared. Alarm bells were going off in his brain; there was something not right about the situation. Something was missing . . . "Why can't we do it here, now?"

Dragoon snorted. "Right, and be stuck full of swords if I so much as sneeze? I don't think so, your most royal majesty. Meet me at the entrance at midnight, alone if you please, or not at all."

Arthur's nostrils flared, and his chin went up. "And why should I give in to your demands?" he countered.

The sorcerer narrowed his eyes. "Well, if _that's_ how you're going to be . . ." Then, quick as a lightning flash, he had grabbed Merlin's arm and dragged him closer. "I'll take this one, as a surety that you'll come."

In that moment, Arthur realized what had been wrong. The whole conversation, Merlin had said nothing, simply stood against the wardrobe in a daze, staring. But he snapped out of it as soon as Dragoon touched him.

"What?" he gasped. "No. Arthur-"

"Merlin!" Arthur cried, stepping forward with fear in his heart, but it was too late: Dragoon the Great's eyes flashed, and with a rushing of mighty winds, warlock and manservant were gone.

* * *

Gaius was alone in his chambers when Leon entered, sifting through a pile of strange items. "Sir Leon," the physician said, straightening with a slight wince. "How may I help you?"

"I'm sure you've heard of the creature attacking villages, yes?" When Gaius nodded, the knight continued. "I am riding out this morning with Sirs Brennis, Gwaine, Percival, and Geraint, and I wondered if either you or Merlin would accompany us, to provide medical aid if needed."

Gaius hesitated, surveying the pile of objects before him. Leon, taking a closer look, realized it was things they had taken from the witch's house. Many of her possessions had been destroyed in the fight, but the rest had been taken back to Camelot for Gaius and Geoffrey to categorize.

"I believe you should take Merlin with you, Sir Leon," Gaius replied. "I've been putting this off for too long, and it needs to be done."

"Of course," Leon said, and with a respectful nod of his head, turned to go.

Suddenly, the door of the chamber crashed open, causing Leon's hand to fly to his sword. But it was just Arthur, albeit an Arthur with windswept hair and a slightly mad expression.

"Merlin's been kidnapped!" Arthur cried, skidding to a halt in front of the two men. They both started at the news, and Gaius grabbed the nearest chair and sank into it.

"Who?" was all he could say.

Arthur tried not to sound accusing as he pronounced the name: "Dragoon the Great."

Both knights waited as Gaius took this in. A flurry of emotions flashed across his face: confusion, disbelief, fear, and then confusion again.

"I'm sorry?" he said, frowning. "Could you repeat that? I don't think I heard you correctly."

* * *

The plot thickens!

Please review!


	3. Dreams or Madness

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers: **Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings: **Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta: **DeleaMarie

**AN: **Enter Chapter Three! Things are starting to get a bit crazy in this story, with new revelations and another character entering the mix. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Three: **Dreams or Madness

The fierce whirlwind took them to a sun-filled clearing, and Dragoon released Merlin, allowing him to trip and fall to the ground with a thump. The warlock sat up hurriedly and scooted away from the old man, who seemed to tower over him.

_Am I really that tall? _Merlin thought, feeling rather faint as Dragoon gave him a contemptuous look and started to pace along the clearing, muttering to himself and and slamming his staff against the ground. Merlin watched him warily for a few minutes, then stood up. He wasn't sure what to say to this unexpected apparition. I mean, what _did _you say to someone who looked exactly like what you would in sixty years and had the same powers, but didn't seem to know who you were? Because there was nothing resembling recognition in Dragoon's eyes.

His first thought on seeing the older man had been that he had finally gone mad, but now he decided it was more likely that he was dreaming.

Needless to say, it was an awkward situation. Merlin wasn't sure he had ever been aware he was dreaming while actually in the dream, so he wasn't sure what to do. Nervously, he cleared his throat and said the very first thing that came to his head:

**"**What's your name?"

Dragoon turned and raised an eyebrow. "What's _your _name?"

This took Merlin rather aback. "I asked first," he protested.**  
"**Well, I'm the kidnapper here-"

**"**-And I'm the kidnappee!"

Dragoon blinked, annoyed. "What?" he demanded.

Merlin set his jaw. "You owe me something."

The old man rolled his eyes, deciding it wasn't worth the trouble. "I've been called Dragoon," he said. Merlin bit his lip.

**"**But that's not your name, is it?"

**" **. . . No."

The warlock hesitated. "Aren't you also called . . . Emrys?"

Dragoon gave him a funny look, but nodded. "Some people know me as that, yes."

**"**But that's not your name either."

**"**No, and don't think I'm telling you my real name, boy. I can't have you spilling it to the king, can I?"

Merlin didn't reply. He was still staring with that strange intensity, the kind that made Dragoon feel uncomfortable. The sorcerer turned away with a huff, muttering about naive boys that had never seen a magic user in their life.

Merlin's voice stopped him. "Merlin."

Dragoon froze. "What?"

**"**That's your name. Merlin."

For a moment the two simply stared into each other's eyes-one slightly resigned, the other shocked-then Dragoon lunged forward and collared Merlin.

**"**_How did you know that?_**" **he hissed, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy. "_How did you know my name was Merlin?_**"**

The younger Merlin gulped. "Because my name's Merlin too."

* * *

Sleep had eluded Morgana after the dream. The chilling quality of it, the rapid-fire images, and the dread eyes of the nightmare, had all combined to keep her pacing for the rest of the night.

And the woman's words? **"**_Arthur doesn't know what he has unleashed." _She didn't know what to make of them, other than acknowledging to herself that her brother was very capable of doing something incredibly stupid in ignorance. But what had he done this time?

A step at the door made her pause in her relentless back-and-forth movements. "Come in," she called at the soft, hesitant knock.

It was Fredegar, one of her newer allies. He stepped cautiously into the room; he'd learned to fear her.

**"**My lady," he said, "Dirril has news: he overheard the king talking to the court physician."

Hope stirred in Morgana's downtrodden heart. "Yes?" she questioned eagerly, and Fredegar gulped.

**"**Emrys has been seen. He was in Camelot, and he has requested to speak to the king tonight, at midnight, in the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

Morgana turned away, smiling. At last, news of her old rival, Emrys! This time, she would have him. This time for sure. And she could snuff Arthur, too.

**"**Kill two birds with one stone," she muttered.

**"**There's more, m'lady," Fredegar said, shifting uncomfortably. His mistress gave him a 'go on' gesture. "Emrys has taken one of the servants hostage, to ensure that the king would come."

He watched as his mistress seemed to freeze up, her whole body stiffening. "'One of the servants'?" she repeated, her voice husky and dangerous. "Which one? Did Dirril say?"

Fredegar took a step back, his hand on the doorknob. "The king's manservant, m'lady. Merlin."

Her infuriated cry followed him all the way to his horse and beyond.

* * *

Wait, why doesn't Dragoon remember Merlin? And now Morgana knows where they are! Uh-oh . . .

Please review!


	4. Probable Cause

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers: **Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings: **Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta: **DeleaMarie

**AN:** This is a bit of a filler/carrier of necessary information chapter, but hopefully it's not too boring.

* * *

**Chapter Four: **Probable Cause

Once more, Merlin watched as Dragoon paced furiously, back and forth, back and forth. Merlin didn't speak, but the older man would occasionally let out a burst of muttered thought. He was having a hard time comprehending what Merlin had told him.

It had certainly been an interesting conversation; not only had Merlin revealed the whole 'Dragoon the Great' situation, but Dragoon the Great had revealed that he remembered pretty much nothing about his past, other than his names.

Finally, after several minutes of this, he stopped and turned to his young counterpart, glaring fiercely. "I can feel myself in you," he said abruptly. "My magic. It courses through your veins as it does through mine."

Merlin nodded. "I feel the same."

Dragoon snorted. "And you still think this is a dream?" he demanded.

**"**What other explanation is there?" Merlin replied calmly.

The old sorcerer gave him a look that made it very clear he thought Merlin was utterly brainless. "Oh, I don't know," he said with infinite sarcasm. "Maybe . . . time travel?"

Merlin opened his mouth to refute this theory, then stopped. "Er, well. I suppose that's an idea. But then why would you not remember who I was?"

**"**Amnesia," Dragoon answered simply.

**"**But why would you remember 'Dragoon' and not your own mother's name? Please, tell me how that makes sense!"

Dragoon looked ready to throw his arms up in exasperation-if he didn't have arthritis in his shoulders. "I don't know _all _the answers, but I don't see you coming up with a better one!" He turned away, muttering, "A dream indeed . . ."

Merlin glared at his back, thoughts running through his mind, quick as greased lightning. "And what about Arthur? What do you remember about him?"

Slowly, Dragoon faced him again. With the beard and long hair, it was hard to read his expression, but Merlin thought he looked uneasy. "He's important," the old sorcerer replied. "He's important, but I'm not sure why. And it's not safe in Camelot, not for him. I had to get him out; it was urgent."

Merlin didn't say anything, merely weighed the words. Dragoon's eyes darted from side to side as he thought. "I saw something," he continued. "A vision, I suppose. I don't remember what it was exactly, but it filled me with fear and dread, and I knew I had to get Arthur out of Camelot. And so I did, in the way I thought best."

**"**Best?" Dragoon was expecting it to be a scoff, but Merlin simply watched him carefully. "How was kidnapping me best?"

Dragoon looked him in the eye, almost beseeching. "You know, I have no idea. But I do believe it was for the best. Truly."

They watched each other intensely for several moments, then Merlin stepped forward and poked Dragoon's shoulder. He heaved a sigh and accepted once and for all that it was not a dream.

**"**Come on," he said. "If you're right and this _is _time travel we're dealing with, I think I know someone who can help."

* * *

Kilgharrah was lost for words. Merlin didn't blame him.

Dragon and warlocks watched each other for a full two minutes before the former spoke. "Ah," he said, his normally deep, wise-sounding voice inching upwards, "maybe _this _is what I have been feeling."

Merlin nodded slowly when Dragoon scowled in confusion; it did not surprise him that Kilgharrah had noticed that there were suddenly two of the same person in the world, especially when that person was Emrys.

**"**We had an idea"-his counterpart gave him a look-"well, _Dragoon _had an idea, that maybe it was time travel of a sort. Problem is, he's also lost his memory."

**"**Time travel?" The dragon leaned closer and examined Dragoon. He grumbled in his great throat. "You might be right, my two young warlocks. And if you are-"

Suddenly, Kilgharrah stopped and stared at Dragoon with an expression Merlin had never seen. He moved even closer and sniffed the older warlock, as if trying to smell something on him. After several minutes of intense sniffing and staring, the dragon reared back and said: "I'm not sure I can help you, but I might know someone who can. There is a Druid living in these woods. Her name is Drusilla, and she knows many things. If anyone can help you . . . she can."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "That's it? No crazy riddles and cryptic statements?"

Kilgharrah did not seem amused, and his voice was almost desperate as he continued. "There is no time for riddles now. In fact, I sense you have very little time. Go now, Merlin and Merlin; her tribe lives an hour or so away. But I warn you, this situation is not all it seems. You will meet many surprises and dangers before the sun rises tomorrow, I think."

* * *

Short, but necessary. Next chapter things will liven up a bit, with our handsome heroes facing-_DUN DUN DUUUN!_-the mutant chicken-thief!

**kitkat**: Earlier you asked if this was going to be a reveal. Well, not exactly in the way you mean, though things will be revealed. Thanks for your reviews!

Please review!


	5. Introducing the Nightmare

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN:** And here it comes . . .

* * *

**Chapter Five**: Introducing the Nightmare

Leaving to go after Merlin and his kidnapper was easy, as Leon already had a few knights ready and eager to leave the castle. Gwaine especially was raring to head out after Dragoon, barely waiting for Arthur to armor up and join them.

"And this way," said Sir Brennis as they crossed the city gates, "we can also take care of the monster, since it was last seen near the Valley."

Gwaine grunted. "I'm not stopping for any monster, not when Merlin's in danger."

Arthur sighed; he'd told the knights about Dragoon's warning to come alone, but none of them had been willing to listen-either not wanting him to face the sorcerer without backup, or wanting to help capture him.

The Valley of the Fallen Kings was a half-day's ride away. All of them wanted to get there as quickly as possible, but galloping the whole way just wasn't an option-the horses needed rest-so they ended up trotting most of the time. The morning seemed to pass with excruciating slowness.

About an hour and a half from the Valley, Sir Gariant, who had been riding a little ways ahead, called out, "Look ahead of us!" The king and knights obeyed, raising their lowered heads to scan the horizon."

A column of thick black smoke ascended before them, rising up above the forest, then gradually drifting off to the south.

Gwaine swore. "How did we not notice that before?"

"It wasn't there ten minutes ago," Leon muttered. "It's risen very quickly."

"Doesn't look too far ahead of us," Arthur said. "Let us ride to it!"

He was about to spur his horse to greater speeds, but then Gariant cried out. "Sire, something's coming through the trees! And quickly!"

Arthur hardly had time to call the knight back towards them when the 'something' came into sight.

Never in their lives would anyone who met the creature be able to fully explain the feelings that swept through them at the sight of it, though Percival once attempted it:

"A wave of paralyzing fear, that made it so you couldn't have moved if you wanted to. The urge to run, to hide, to cower. The knowledge that there was no winning in a fight like this. There was no winning against a creature like that. It was like being a kid again and having night terrors, only it was real."

And who could describe the creature? Perhaps Gwaine's memories will suffice:

"It had at least four heads, and each head was crowned with silver spikes and filled with razor-sharp teeth. Its eyes were yellow fire, and its hide was black as night . . . it was a nightmare, crawled out of the deepest of pits and most evil of minds."

Nightmare was an apt word. It went straight for Arthur, tossing Gariant and Percival aside as if they were nothing, their swords bouncing off its leathery skin, and it made a grunting noise as it came.

Arthur dodged one head and was knocked off his horse by another. A third face came down to bite his leg off, but he made a wild swipe with his sword and it retreated, hissing. He was suddenly treated to the lovely view of an ugly, festering wound on its chest: someone had already gotten it. But then he had to roll away posthaste to avoid being stepped on.

The monster's whip-like tail had wrapped around Gwaine's waist and was dragging him closer, despite his attempts to gain freedom. Brennis was also in trouble-one head kept on hitting his right arm, which had been broken in a wrestling match with Percival and hadn't felt the same since.

But Arthur had barely a thought to spare for them; the monster had just pointed one of its silver spikes at him. Something, perhaps intuition, caused him to dive out of the way as the spike flew at him and impaled a tree.

_It can launch those things,_ he found himself thinking incredulously. _Lovely._ He stood and readied for another attack, but the head that had thrown the spike was still staring at it with unnerving intensity. As he watched in confusion, the spike started to vibrate.

Arthur didn't wait to see what would happen next. He ducked behind another tree and yelled, "Get down!"

The spike exploded, blasting the tree trunk apart and spraying the surroundings with chunks and slivers of wood, all moving at velocities capable of killing. The tree crashed downwards, then, with agonizing slowness, tipped over into its fellows, crunching and twisting as it fell.

Arthur felt sick. _That could have been me,_ he thought as he peered out at the scattered wood chips. _This is NOT good._

And then-the creature was gone, slipping through the trees with a cry. Gwaine fell to the ground with a grunt, but was up again in a flash. "Hey!" he yelled, waving his sword in the air. "Coward! Come back!"

"Gwaine!" Arthur ran forward, his mind whizzing. He had a really bad feeling that he knew where the creature was headed. "Listen to me: all of you have to get back to Camelot now. That's where the monster is headed."

Gariant limped closer. "How do you know?"

"Leon, you showed me the maps of where the creature had stolen from, and even you noticed that it was getting steadily closer to the city." Leon's eyes widened.

"I thought we agreed that was just a coincidence."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't think so. It's being drawn to the city somehow-don't ask me why. Maybe it's looking for-"

He didn't finish the sentence, just shook his head to rid himself of the thought. "But you lot need to try and head it off, stop it somehow."

"And you?" Gwaine asked.

"I'm going to meet Dragoon." He held up his hand to belay the protests. "I will not be stopped, and you all must go back. I don't know what it will take to kill this monster, but I feel it will be difficult."

"You cannot meet him alone, Sire," Leon said. "It's a trap!"

"But I must, Sir Leon," Arthur responded. "I truly believe he means me no harm, but that may change if I present myself as a threat." He looked each of his men in the eye, and with that look squashed any rebellion.

"We'll do you proud, Sire, or die trying," Sir Gariant said for all of them.

When they had gone, Arthur set his face towards the Valley again. The column of smoke still rose ahead, and he started towards it-already knowing what he would find when he got there.

* * *

He didn't stop long in the ruined village, just cast an eye (he wished it were unseeing or uncaring) around at the burning houses and scattered bodies, clasped the hands of a few distraught people, and instructed everyone to head for the safety of Camelot. His dire predictions of that morning had finally come true.

"My men are working on stopping the monster," he told the village elder. "I myself am heading to get help."

He nearly bit his tongue, wondering why he'd said that. _Well, why not?_ he thought. _Merlin's help. And maybe . . ._  
Arthur didn't let himself finish that thought, merely mounted and went on riding. He would reach the Valley of the Fallen Kings in less than an hour.

* * *

**L**: The Dolma?! Oh man, let's not go there! I think poor Merlin's had enough heart attacks for today! Thanks for reviewing!

**kitkat and Guest**: Thanks for reviewing!

So next chapter we get to see our dear warlocks again. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Morgana! She'll be appearing a little bit later.


	6. Massacre of the Innocents

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN:** And back to our dear warlocks:) Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Six**: Massacre of the Innocents

Neither Merlin nor Dragoon had any idea where the Druids might be, but they set out with enthusiasm.

"We probably won't find them in the Valley," Merlin decided. "Most people believe this place is cursed."

"With good reason," Dragoon muttered, throwing the surrounding trees a wary look. "Why did I tell Arthur to meet us here? Bad move, if you ask me."

"I could have told you that, if I hadn't been paralyzed with confusion and terror."

Dragoon shook his head, scoffing. "That's a good way to put it."

As they walked, Merlin examined the other man. _If this really is time travel, then that's what I'll look like in sixty years_, he thought. _Hmm, could be worse._ Dragoon's personality reminded Merlin of, well, Dragoon: open, uninhibited, unafraid, and really rather insulting, even more so than Merlin himself. It was a bit gratifying; obviously he knew himself well.

"So, these 'visions', you don't suppose they're actually memories?" he asked, stumbling a little in his haste to catch up with Dragoon; the old warlock had gained some grace in his long years.

"Probably," Dragoon replied, not looking terribly interested. "I had thought I was just seeing the future, but they must be memories of things you'll see."

"Could you elaborate on your memories of Arthur being in danger? Like, from what?"

"Not sure. But it wasn't a coincidence that I picked midnight as a meeting-time; it's important for him to be out of Camelot at that specific time."

"Okay, but-"

"Lands' sakes, boy, do you always talk this much?! Hush and let me think!"

"Think about what?" Merlin said without thinking, then pinched his lips together.

Dragoon sighed. "If I try, I might be able to sense the Druids-pinpoint their location. But _only_ if I have _silence_."

They walked for several minutes, Merlin biting his lips to keep words in and Dragoon frowning and looking this way and that.

All of a sudden, Merlin grabbed Dragoon's arm and cried, "Look!"

Smoke wound, thin and snakelike, through the sky above them. The source was very close. Merlin made to go towards it, but his older self clenched onto his arm and dragged him into the bushes. "Keep still!" the warlock hissed, his dark eyes staring straight ahead. Following his gaze, Merlin gasped.

It was the monster, all four heads close to the ground and sniffing. Slowly, the grotesque faces rose to the sky, and four throaty roars tore the unnatural silence in the forest. The monster raced away in the direction of Camelot.

Merlin followed it with his eyes, mouth agape. "What in the name of the Triple Goddess-" he sputtered, but Dragoon dragged him forward.

"Let's move on; the Druids are near. In fact, unless I am mistaken, that smoke is coming from their camp-and the monster did too." His voice was grim. Merlin shut up and followed hastily.

The monster had left a trail of destruction that was clear to see. Before they had even reached the camp, the two warlocks had a pretty good idea of the kind of damage the creature could inflict. All the same, the scene was terrifying, even to Merlin, who had seen raids on Druids camps before. But this . . .

A teenage girl bending over a body on the ground saw them as they stepped into the clearing, and she ran away, calling that Emrys was there.

"Yeah, both of him," Merlin muttered. He didn't mean it as a joke, and Dragoon didn't laugh.

Merlin knelt beside the body, checking for life-signs, but there were none, and there were so many more lying around that he despaired that any could be saved.

As he worked, the girl returned, and Merlin thought he should have felt more surprise at seeing Iseldir with her, but maybe the man's tribe was the only one crazy enough to stay so close to Camelot. He stood as Iseldir approached, staring unabashedly at the two warlocks. Merlin felt sure that was the most emotion he had ever seen on the man's face.

"What-"

"Yes, there're two of us," Merlin interrupted.

"How-?"

"We think, time travel."

"And why-?"

"A . . . friend told us to find the Druid Drusilla. He said she might be able to help us."

"Ah," Iseldir breathed, looking at Dragoon with enlightenment. "I see."

"Also," Merlin continued, "he has amnesia."

"So I have no clue who you are," Dragoon said bluntly.

After the introductions, they stepped into one of the med-tents and got down to business.

"Drusilla isn't here, hasn't been for about a week," Iseldir informed them as he helped patch up one of the wounded. "She went to find some rare herbs in the mountains, I believe. Not sure when she'll be back. But her son, Farrell, is here. He might be able to tell you more, or even help you."

The Druid leader laughed softly as he tied the final knot on a bandage. "Farrell's actually a bit of a hero right now-he was the only one who managed to land a hit on the beast. And a good one too!"

Merlin paused in his own ministrations and looked up in surprise. "No one else was able to hurt it?"

Iseldir grimaced. "Our magic was useless against it. Nothing we did worked. Even our shields could only withstand a blow or two before giving out. And we're peaceful people, not used to fighting anything except the occasional wolf. Many of us died." His voice was grieved indeed. "That beast has got to be stopped. There's something . . . evil in it, something that can't be reasoned with or stopped. It started out so small, started out with only hunger, but now it's got death in its heart. And that's something you can't reverse."

He helped his patient sit, then stand up, and watched as he hobbled away, out of the tent, before continuing with a frown.

"It's like a nightmare, like when you're a child and your mind conjures up the worst horrors to frighten you with."  
Dragoon (having professed no skill in healing of any kind) was standing in the corner with a disturbed look in his eyes. "Yes," he murmured. "That's a good way to describe it . . ."

* * *

Just FYI, this chapter takes place before Arthur and Co. encounter the monster.

Next chapter will have Morgana in it. so hold on to your pants! Unfortunately, I probably will _not_ going to be updating on Monday, just so's you know. And school starts on Tuesday for me, but hopefully that won't slow the updates. But I'm anxious to hear your thoughts about this chapter!


	7. Mad Woman With A Box

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN:** Plot development in this chapter! :D

* * *

**Chapter Seven: **Mad Woman with a Box

Morgana decided that taking any of her men with her to face Emrys and Arthur would be futile; it had never helped before, and she didn't think it would work now. So that was why she found herself riding through the woods alone, her heart pounding in anticipation of the coming meeting. She felt almost ill with excitement.

Merlin also being there had been a bit of a damper. The man had the uncanny ability to foil all her plans and then not even gloat about how he had done it! It was infuriating. Even Emrys didn't get on her nerves as much as Merlin did.

As Morgana fumed, her eye was caught by a flash of scarlet through the trees. Intrigued, she reined her horse in and looked closer.

There was a body lying on the forest floor, clad in a tattered red dress, with long, tangled brown hair falling everywhere. As Morgana leaned in for a closer look, the figure raised her head.

Morgana inhaled swiftly. It was the woman from her vision! What was she doing here?

Slowly, the High Priestess dismounted and came closer. The woman watched with tired eyes. Morgana realized she looked very pale and sickly, her hair sticking to her face from the sweat and her eyes dulled with fever. She coughed, the kind of cough that would have sent Gaius straight into physician mode.

**"**You are not well," Morgana stated.

**"**No," the woman agreed, pulling herself into a sitting position against a tree. "I am decidedly _not _well. But never mind that-we must talk." She gestured to a rock nearby and Morgana sat.

**"**I saw you in a vision."

**"**Yes, I wasn't so far gone that I couldn't send you a message. The fact that your mind was already open, not only with sleep, but with the future, only made it easier. I had to warn you, contact you somehow."

Morgana's brow furrowed. Contacting through dreams when ill? The woman must be a very powerful sorceress. "Warn me of what Arthur did, you mean?"

The woman coughed again, wetly. "Yes, but not just that. I also mean what _I _did." She smiled weakly. "I don't have time to tell you the story, but it's not just Arthur's fault that all these things are happening. A long time ago, I did something very wrong, and I'm afraid it's too late for me to set it right now. The monster, even Emrys . . . But there's no point crying over spilled milk."

Slowly, painfully almost, the woman reached into a bag that Morgana hadn't noticed before and pulled out a box that looked like it had been hit with a fireball. The lid was hanging half-off, and part of the wood had been blasted away. She handed it to Morgana.

**"**What is this?" Morgana asked, gingerly turning the ruined box over in her hands.

**"**There are two of them," the woman panted, her arm dropping to the ground as if she had no strength to hold it up. "I don't know where the other one is, but you must find it! I've wasted too much time already, trapped in my own mind, consumed with my own madness."

**"**Madness?"

**"**I've been mad since I was a child," the woman told her. "They just didn't realize it until it was too late. And it caused so much trouble."

Looking at her, Morgana could believe it. Then she realized the woman was smiling a little.

**"**You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Morgana accused. "You're enjoying holding this mystery over my head, over all our heads!"

**"**Of course I am!" the woman wheezed. "It's in my nature to enjoy watching people struggle. And at least I have the courage to admit it." She said all this very matter-of-factly, as if Morgana's anger wasn't growing with every second. "Don't explode at me, m'lady, even though you want to. You want Camelot, don't you? You want revenge? Well, unless you and Arthur and Emrys solve this mystery, you're not going to get any of that. So put aside your grievances-imagined or otherwise-find your brother, and save the world!"

**"**Work with Arthur?" Morgana scoffed. "I'd rather die!"

**"**Well, then you will die. And everything will die with you. All will be dust, and ashes, and smoke."

Morgana's vision flashed before her eyes, and she did not respond to the ominous statement.

The woman continued after a second, her expression gone thoughtful. "And I don't suppose it will make any sense either."

She started coughing again, this more even more violently, and Morgana knew it was the end. She took the woman's shoulders in her hands and asked, almost gently, "What's your name? At least tell me that."

Choking, the woman gasped, "Be-a-trice." Her breathing stilled. "The mad sorceress."

Ten minutes later, Morgana was riding off again, leaving yet another trail of smoke as what was left of Beatrice burned.

* * *

Farrell was a pleasant man of about thirty. He had a wife, Marin, and two children, Jeremy and Aisha. When he heard that Merlin and Dragoon were looking for his mother, he paused in his cleaning efforts to smile and inform them that yes, Iseldir was right: his mother was off picking rare herbs with a few of the other Druid women, bu they were very lucky, as she was due back that very night.

**"**You're welcome to stay with my family until she comes back!" he said brightly. "We'd be ever so pleased if you had dinner with us."

He looked so friendly, the two warlocks didn't even consider declining. "D'you need any help?" Merlin added, gesturing at the pile of burned wood Farrell was trying to move.

**"**Oh, that would be lovely, thanks!" Merlin was glad that Farrell was not one of the Druids that felt 'Emrys' should never lift a finger. As they both struggled to pick up one particularly heavy piece of wood, Dragoon rolled his eyes and whispered a spell; the wood lifted itself.

**"**Well, there is that method too," Merlin muttered. "Takes all the fun out of it, though."

**"**What does your mother _do_, anyway?" Dragoon asked as he lifted another piece of wood. "Why would she have been recommended to us for our . . . problem?"

**"**To tell you the truth, I have no idea," Farrell admitted. "My mother is well-read and a very powerful sorceress, but as far as I know she's never done any research on time travel. In fact, I can't think if there even _is _any research on time travel. It's just one of those subjects-"

**"**So why would Kilgharrah tell us to come to her?" Dragoon snapped. "Are you sure we're not wasting our time?"

**"**Do you have a better idea?" Merlin retorted. "Because I don't. I've even asked Gaius about time traveling, but he doesn't know anything about it. And Kilgharrah may have his issues, but he's been very helpful in the past. This is worth looking into."

Dragoon grumbled. "We could be scouring the vaults of Camelot for help, rather than waiting for some old sorceress-"

**"**Hey," Farrell said, frowning. "That's my mother you're talking about. I don't know what help she can be to you, but she's very good at what she does. What with everything that's been going on here, we'll be very glad to see her back-"

Once again, Dragoon broke in. "What do you mean, everything that's been going on here?"

Farrell fumbled for a second, turning red. "Er, well, you know . . . the monster! And . . . all that. Just stuff."

He shot his wife a 'Help me!" look, but she just gave him a warning glance in return and moved out of earshot.

Dragoon shrugged, as if he wasn't thinking much of it, but Merlin saw the contemplative look in his eye.

And he also saw the young Jeremy watching them from the tent, his eyes dark and-

Guilty?

* * *

I know you have questions. I know you're probably very confused. Just bear with me, and everything will be answered, hopefully in a way that makes sense;)

BTW, this is the half-way point. We're almost there, peeps!

**kitkat:** Thanks for your review! I'm glad someone enjoys my attempts at humor:)


	8. Sibling Rivalry

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN: **Short chapter, but pretty important. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: **Sibling Rivalry

It was sometime after noon when Arthur finally entered the Valley, and he wandered around for a few hours more, searching for his manservant. He found tracks everywhere, but it was difficult to say who they belonged to, and when he followed the tracks, it turned up nothing but a few bandit camps that even he was not stupid enough to attack without backup. He also found evidence that the monster had passed through the Valley: blasted trees, silver spikes, and huge claw marks through the bark.

As he examined these blights on the landscape, Arthur found himself wondering where the monster came from and what had driven it to kill. Had it been driven mad by injury, perhaps the one on its chest? Was it diseased? Looking for something?

He gave up this line of thought after a few minutes. He could hardly fathom his own mind sometimes, let alone the mind of a non-human.

He looked at the sun; it was still several degrees from the horizon. Arthur sighed and resigned himself to several more hours of fruitless searching.

An arrow, rust-covered and dirty, appeared in front of his nose, skewering a young sapling. He lurched backwards on instinct, even though it had already missed, then drew his sword.

It was bandits, of course. Not too many, but enough that he hesitated before dismissing his doubts and charging into their midst. Even alone, he was a formidable foe, and most of his attackers fell before they knew what hit them; King Arthur was not known as the best knight in the five kingdoms for nothing.

He forgot about the archer and probably would have been killed if someone hadn't telekinetically yanked the aiming man out of his tree and snapped his neck. The arrow flew haphazardly and hit the ground several feet away from Arthur, just as he dispatched the last bandit.

**"**And that," said a familiar lilting voice, "is absolutely the last time I am _ever _saving your life."

Arthur whipped around. It was Morgana. Of course it was.

**"**Morgana," he greeted, swallowing to hold back fear. "What a pleasure."

**"**Mutual, I'm sure," she drawled, coming closer. He raised his sword in warning. "Alone today? I'd have thought you would at least have Merlin with you, to whisper plans into your ear. Oh wait . . ." She seemed to come into some sudden memory. "Hasn't he been kidnapped? Poor man-could never take care of himself."

Arthur's nostrils flared in rage. "Don't tell me _you _had something to do with this?"

**"**Don't be ridiculous," Morgana snapped. "As if I would ally myself with Emrys!" Then she seemed to think about that and frowned, for wasn't that exactly what Beatrice had told her to do?

**"**Have you found him yet?" she asked to cover her confusion. "Or have his magical ways eluded you?"

**"**For your information, I don't have to find him until midnight. Now, will you please stop playing and let's just get down to business already? I don't have all day."

**"**Actually, since midnight is technically tomorrow, you do," she pointed out, then laughed merrily. "But I'm not here to fight you, Arthur. In fact, I'd like to contract a temporary truce."

Her half-brother narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?" he asked slowly.

**"**There's a mystery," she whispered, stepping even closer, "and I think you can help me solve it."

**"**Why would I do that?"

**"**Because it involves Merlin and Emrys, and the monster that has been stalking these lands."

Arthur tipped his head to one side, considering. "Continue," he commanded eventually.

Morgana went to her horse and removed the burned box, then held it out for his inspection. "Look familiar?" she asked, but he shook his head. "Hmm. Alright, let's try this one: do you know a sorceress by the name of Beatrice?"

A light dawned. "How do you know her?" he asked warily.

**"**I met her just this morning," Morgana confessed. "But she mentioned you a few times. Said you have done something. Care to explain what?"

**"**I was only doing my duty to my people," Arthur shot back, frowning. "More than a week ago, some villagers that lived in the forest came to me with a petition: they said that there was a mad sorceress living in the woods, and they wanted her taken away.

**"**Apparently, she had lived there for almost thirteen years, not bothering them, so they didn't bother her. They suspected her magical powers, but since she sometimes used them to heal, and amuse the children, they never said anything. But for the last few months, she had been showing her madness even more. The villagers became afraid that she would hurt their children. So they asked for our help."

He looked Morgana in the face. "She was mad; she would have hurt somebody."

Though she did not say so, Morgana agreed with him.

**"**We went to take her to Camelot, but she resisted strongly, and escaped. And that is _all _that happened."

**"**You don't remember this box?" Morgana insisted.

He shrugged. "She had dozens of possessions. Those that weren't destroyed in the fight were taken to Camelot for Gaius and Geoffrey to look over."

A light came to Morgana's eyes. "Beatrice said there were two of these boxes. She said we had to find the other one, but she didn't know where it was. Do you suppose it could have been taken to Camelot with her other possessions?"

**"**Very possibly. Come to think of it, that box could have been destroyed in the fight. She was throwing fireballs around like juggling balls."

He took the box from her; their mutual enmity was, for the moment, forgotten.

**"**By the way," Arthur said, "what does this have to do with Merlin and the monster?"

**"**I haven't the faintest," Morgana admitted. "But Beatrice said that the monster and Emrys were connected to this mystery somehow."

**"**Well, if we're going to solve this, maybe you should tell me what she said exactly."

**"**Well, she started off by saying it was all your fault . . ."

* * *

**kitkat:** Humor makes me laugh, too:) But then again, I'm easily amused. And seriously, that guy had better have won an award for his work!

I'm very excited for next chapter:) It's going to be awesome.

Please review!


	9. Assigning Blame

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN: **I apologize for the unusually long wait: school is time-consuming and inspiration is sparse at the moment. I hope you still remember what's going on;)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nine**: Assigning Blame

"More?" Marin asked.

"Oh no, thank you, I think I've had enough," Merlin replied, fending the offered spoon off with a hand. The other appendage was resting on his stomach, testing for signs of an impending burst.

Needless to say, it had been a good dinner. Dragoon was dozing by the fire, and the two children were yawning widely; Jeremy especially seemed very tired.

"Aisha, bedtime," Marin commanded as she fetched the pot from by the fire. The girl groaned.

"Why doesn't Jeremy have to come?" she whined, even while standing. "He's even more tired than I am!"

"You know why; he won't sleep with those nightmares anyway," Marin said, shooing her daughter towards the nearby tent.

"You get nightmares?" Merlin asked Jeremy in sympathy.

"Yeah, just recently," Jeremy murmured. "They're just night terrors I guess. But Father said I didn't have to sleep if I didn't want to."

Dragoon spoke up, even though his eyes remained closed. "That doesn't sound like the sort of thing a father would say. Usually, it's all about how you should soldier through it, and how they'll go away, that you need your sleep and all that. Right?"

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess. But my father understands. He lets me stay awake." He yawned again. "Though I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up."

Merlin frowned. Jeremy was only about twelve or thirteen; he needed his sleep. He wondered why none of the Druids had tried a spell to ease his nightmares. But before he could ask, Jeremy stood up and said, "I'm going to go read," and left.

Merlin watched him go, and an idea popped into his brain. "Do you think he's a seer?" he whispered to Dragoon.

"No," Dragoon said definitely. "I don't think he's a seer. Though, there are other ways of seeing things that will happen. Perhaps you're more correct than you know."

Since this didn't really make much sense, Merlin said, "What do you mean?"

The old warlock smiled. "These memories seem to strike at the oddest times," was all he answered to the question before asking one of his own. "So tell me, Merlin. Powerful warlock and a kingdom that hates magic. What brings those two things together?"

Merlin shrugged. "Destiny, I suppose." He thought for a moment, then added. "And chicken. Or the lack of being one, maybe."

Dragoon obviously didn't understand, but he took this in stride. "I suppose you have to keep it a secret?" A nod. "Even from Arthur?" Another nod. "Isn't there anyone you can talk to?"

"Well, there's Gaius, and there was Lancelot . . ." Merlin trailed off. "That's it, I guess. And now, I suppose I have you, at least until you go home again." He smiled. "It's weird, really. I mean, Gaius is good to talk to, but I don't think he really understands. No one does."

"That'd be impossible," Dragoon told him, and the younger man nodded.

"Yeah, but it's really nice to know that you're here, even if you can't remember. It's nice to know that somewhere in your head there's everything that's ever happened to me, and an understanding too." Merlin ducked his head shyly. "You sure you have to leave after whatever's happening is over?" He looked over at Dragoon and they shared an understanding smile.

There was a scream. The two warlocks jumped to their feet, automatically turning towards the sound. Farrell and Marin almost leapt out of their tent, just in time to catch Jeremy as he stumbled blindly towards them.

"I fell asleep!" he cried hysterically. "I fell asleep! I'm sorry!"

"No, Jeremy, just tell us what you saw," Farrell said, taking his son's shoulders firmly. "It's okay, just calm down and tell us what you saw."

"We have to tell them!" Jeremy sobbed, not hearing what his father said. "Dad, we have to tell them!"

"But we can't!" Marin glanced over at Dragoon and Merlin as she held her son close.

"It's their right; they have to know!"

Somehow, there was no doubt in anyone's mind who 'they' were. 'They' moved closer, uncertain and confused. "What do you need to tell us?" Merlin asked cautiously. "If there's any way we can help-"

"How can you be sure, son?" Farrell asked. "How can you be sure what caused this?"

"Can't you tell? They're wrong, Dad. There is only one Emrys, and yet there are two. How can that be? The only question left is, which one am I responsible for?" He dissolved into fresh tears, moaning, "It's all my fault . . ."

Marin clenched her fists. "No, it's Beatrice's fault, and we all know it."

"What about Beatrice?"

They all jumped at the voice. An old but sturdy woman was coming closer to them, her long gray hair held back in braids. Her eyes shone.

Jeremy jumped to his feet with a cry and flew at her. "Grandmama!" Dragoon stood up and went to stand by Merlin.

"My darling," she said with quiet affection. "Why are you so upset? And who . . .?"

She eyed Merlin and Dragoon, confusion growing on her face. The old warlock murmured, "Something tells me that something great is about to be revealed."

"We were just . . ." Farrell sighed. "Mother, there's something we need to tell you."

* * *

Arthur looked up; it was a full moon that night, and the glowing circle was reaching for the tallest part of the sky. "We don't have much time," he said softly, the forest deadening his words. "He'd better find us because I have no clue where he could be."

The day had gone better than either of the Pendragons could have predicted, with only minor skirmishes between the two of them. Of course, their good manners were rewarded with zero luck in the finding-Dragoon-and-Merlin quest. They had wandered the whole Valley, searching for clues, but had found nothing.

"He must have something that will allow him to find you later," Morgana had said as the sun set. "At least, I hope he does, otherwise there will be no meeting at midnight."

"'Something'? Like what?" Arthur responded. She shrugged.

"Hair works. Clothing? Who knows. Just something that you've touched or that's important to you." Then she had smirked a little. "Like . . . Merlin, maybe."

She'd gotten a good laugh about that, while Arthur had rolled his eyes and grumbled about how Merlin was simply an idiot.

Morgana sat down on a tree stump, heaving out a long sigh. "Let's stop here," she said. "There's no point in going any further."

Though the thought of sitting and doing nothing was aggravating to Arthur, he saw her point and stopped walking. As he gazed restlessly into the darkness, she pulled out the box again.

"Why do you keep on looking at that?" he asked. "Is there something else to see?"

She didn't answer for a moment. "I have a couple theories as to why this box is important, and I'm trying to think of a way to test my theories."

"Care to share?"

She shot him a withering look. "You know nothing of magic," she said. "What makes you think you could understand?"

His chin went up proudly, but he managed to restrain whatever angry thought came to his head. "Use small words then."

Morgana rolled her eyes, but spoke. "This box has something to do with the monster. You said you attacked Beatrice a week ago; the monster first appeared a week ago. Follow?"

Arthur started to look interested. "Yes."

"Maybe the box held the monster in some way. I've heard of demons trapped inside magical containers; maybe this was one of them."

Arthur was skeptical. "How would the creature have fit inside that box? It's huge!"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe _magic_ helped?" Morgana retorted, then clenched her teeth together. "Your ignorance of magic will be the death of you one day, mark my words." She continued on before Arthur could respond. "What I don't understand is, why was it so easy to destroy? If it were me, I'd have put powerful protective spells around it, to lessen the chance of the demon being released."

"Beatrice was mad," Arthur pointed out. "Maybe she forgot-she was crazy enough not to send the creature back where it belonged, if it is a demon."

Without thinking about it, the two started to circle each other, not with intent, but unconsciously. A wary feeling started to build around them, but neither noticed.

"Do you really think that's what it is?" Morgana questioned, then shook her head. "There must be something else."

They were both silent for a moment, pondering the words that Morgana had spoken. Arthur quietly mused, "Maybe she wanted it released. Maybe it was not a prison, but a resting place; not something to hold the creature back, but to help it grow stronger . . ."

His sister considered this. "You may be right," she admitted. "I didn't know her for long, but Beatrice seemed like the sort of person that would unleash chaos just to see how everyone would react. She's a bit sadistic, I think."

"And it would have been her fault," Arthur said. "If she was keeping it, and she let it loose, however accidentally . . . But what does it have to do with Dragoon?"

"The monster must have attracted his attention. But why kidnap Merlin and make you leave the castle?"

It seemed that they were no closer to finding the answer than before, and both of them let out deep sighs of frustration. In that moment of unguarded emotion, they finally caught on to the charged air around them, and they turned to eye each other.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur asked suddenly. "You hate me, you hate Dragoon, and you couldn't care less if Camelot was destroyed. Why are you helping?"

Morgana looked affronted. "I most certainly would care if the monster destroyed Camelot! You must have forgotten that it's my ambition to be queen-and what's the point of being queen of a wasteland? Beatrice warned me of what the beast could do. I still have a heart, you know."

"So you're saying that you actually care what happens to the people of Camelot? Why don't you tell that to families of the innocent people you slaughtered?!"

"You can talk!" she cried. "What about the innocents that died during the Purge? Half of them didn't even have magic, let alone use it for evil! You and your father both, you're like these . . . vessels that have been filled with prejudice and-wait!"

Her eyes widened, and when Arthur opened his mouth to speak, she held up a finger and said, "No, stop, please, I think I know . . ." She held up the box with an almost mad glint in her eye. Her brother abruptly stopped, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Arthur," Morgana said softly, "have you ever thought that it's possible to know the answer to a question by hearing yourself say it? And no," she continued before he could answer, "I don't mean that in the way you think I mean."

"Then how do you mean? Don't be so mysterious; explain yourself!"

Morgana smiled faintly. "Arthur, what do you know about magical vessels?"

Arthur blinked. "Gaius has mentioned those I think. Aren't they used when a spell is powerful enough that it would be dangerous to cast it alone?"

"An inadequate summary, but true," Morgana conceded. "The vessel can do a great deal more than that, like increase the spell's potency depending on proximity with the object you want to enchant. But one thing you have to be careful with when using vessels is protective spells, especially when you have something like this." She held up the box.

"Why?" Arthur asked, taking the object from her and examining it.

"With living things, you can put as powerful a spell as you want on it and as many protective enchantments, too. Why? Because the gods build living things to hold magic, at least to a degree. But with inanimate objects, it can be dangerous, because things that aren't alive were never meant to hold magic. Even making them vessels can be dangerous, but adding more magic, like protective charms, can overload them, and the spell will backfire."

"Well, that sounds dangerous," Arthur stated. "Why use an inanimate object at all? Why not use something living all the time?"

"Because living things die," Morgana replied. "And the major plus-side of vessels is that if the caster dies, the spell lives on. That's why they're used so often, even when they're not needed."

"I see," Arthur murmured. "So maybe Beatrice did have a spell in place to hold the monster back, and it was broken when the vessel was destroyed."

"Yes," his sister agreed. "Destroying the vessel would have destroyed the spell, too." And then she smiled a little secret smile. "Of course, it's just a theory; there are spells to find out if I'm right, but I'd have to look through my spellbooks to find them, so that's out of the picture right now." She sighed, suddenly changing the subject. "It's midnight, where are they?"

"Here," Dragoon said from behind her.

* * *

Personally I'm not to sure about this chapter. There's just something . . . But I hope you enjoyed it and are excited for the next one! Because things will be revealed . . . DUNDUNDUN.

**kitkat**: Sherlock is pretty great;) Though the length of the seasons are not.


	10. Where Nightmares Come True

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN:** Here is it! The chapter you've all been waiting for! Enjoy;)

* * *

**Chapter Ten**: Where Nightmares Come True

"You explain," Farrell said to Drusilla after Morgana had stopped having a heart attack. "You know the story best."

"What happened to 'come alone'?" Arthur asked, looking between Dragoon and the two Druids with increasing incredulity. "What's going on?"

"You can talk," Merlin muttered. "What's _she_ doing here?" He nodded towards Morgana, his eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to respond, but Drusilla spoke sharply.

"There's not time for that now; you'll barely have time to reach Camelot before dawn as it is. Please, let me explain, and then you can bicker all you like."

"What are you explaining?" Morgana questioned. "How did you find these two?" This was to Dragoon and Merlin.

"That comes later; we've got to start at the beginning," Merlin replied.

Dragoon said nothing. He'd been unnaturally quiet since his first greeting. Arthur thought he looked a little depressed and didn't miss the concerned look Merlin had whenever he looked at him. No matter the enmity between them, he wondered what was wrong with the old warlock.

"Does this story have anything to do with this?" Morgana held up the destroyed box, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

Drusilla started. "How did you come by that?" she asked, reaching to take it carefully.

"I found a woman named Beatrice in the woods; she gave it to me before she died."

Farrell gaped. "_Died_? But that means-"

"Peace, Farrell," Drusilla said. "What did Beatrice tell you?"

After Morgana had relayed what the late sorceress had said, Drusilla nodded. "It would seem that Beatrice tried to redeem herself in the end by giving you this. She was a powerful seer; I don't know what she saw, but I certainly wouldn't have known what to do without the information you just gave us.

"That said, I'm sure you are very confused. Let us sit down, and I'll explain as best I can."

There weren't many rocks or stumps big enough for all of them, so the younger people took seats on the ground, while Drusilla and Dragoon were allowed the easier chairs. After settling herself in and rearranging her braids carefully, Drusilla began.

"About thirteen years ago, Beatrice was my apprentice in the Druid clan. She was a very bright student and the most gifted I had ever taught. Farrell-my son, here-and his wife had just had a beautiful baby boy, Jeremy. It is tradition in our family to place some sort of gift on a newborn child, one that will help them in their later life. As his grandmother, I wanted to do the honors, but Beatrice begged me to let her test her mettle and gift the boy. She was so good at what she did and I was so fond of her, I agreed. I . . . regret the decision now."

Farrell touched his mother's foot, the only part he could easily reach, as she looked at the ground in shame.

"The gods only know what made Beatrice think her gift was a good idea. I should have made sure she was giving him something good _before_ she actually cast the spell. But I didn't, and then it was too late."

"What was the gift?" Morgana asked.

"She gave him the gift of his dreams coming true."

There was a moment as the two Pendragons processed this information. Arthur's eyebrows drew together. "Could you explain exactly what you mean by that?"

"It's very simple, actually," Drusilla said. "Jeremy would dream something, and whatever he dreamt would manifest in the real world. I don't even know how Beatrice managed to get the spell to work, or where she found it, but like I said, she was exceptionally gifted."

"And she was crazy," Arthur said slowly. "At least when I saw her."

Farrell blinked. "Wait, when-"

Arthur stopped him short. "Long story. Please continue, Drusilla."

"You're right, she was mad, even back then. There was something wrong with her mind, but we didn't noticed soon enough." Drusilla sighed. "Anyway, after we found out what the spell was, we tried to make her remove it, but she refused! She also refused to show us where the vessel for the spell was, so we couldn't even break it. Nothing we did worked; Beatrice simply wouldn't do it.

"So, in the end, we banished her, to try and prevent anything else like it happening again. And I had worked out a solution: I couldn't remove Beatrice's spell, but I could add my own. I made it so that Jeremy would never dream. Never."

She held up the box. "This was the vessel for my spell. It went missing just months after I cast it, and I never was sure who took it. But Beatrice makes sense."

"And so does your story," Morgana muttered, almost to herself. "If the vessel was destroyed a week ago . . . and the monster appeared a week ago! Did Jeremy dream of him?"

"Yes," Farrell said glumly. "We told him the story of Beatrice a few years ago, and though he had never dreamed before, he knew the signs and warned us. Then we started to hear rumors of the monster."

Arthur was nodding. "Of course, that would explain why the monster's so terrifying: it's literally the stuff of nightmares. It's something only a child could have dreamed up."

"And why nothing we did would hurt it," Farrell added gloomily. "Of course a young boy would dream up something indestructible."

"Why didn't you tell the other Druids when you found out?" Morgana asked.

"We did, but no one was sure what to do," Farrell said. "Mother was gone, and we didn't know what spell she'd used to block his dreams. Our only hope was that she would be able to help when she got back. And you can, can't you?" He turned to his mother in hope. She frowned.

"I can replicate the spell, yes, but our best hope will be to destroy Beatrice's vessel so that I don't have to."

"Which is why we've got to head to Camelot," Merlin said.

"And the monster," Arthur reminded him.

Merlin groaned. "It's heading towards Camelot?"

"Probably already there," Dragoon spoke up unexpectedly, his voice gloomy. "So we must hurry." He stood up. "Anything else, Drusilla?"

The old sorceress looked at him with pity in her eyes-Arthur didn't understand it-but she said, "Just hurry. Any moment the monster is allowed to live is a moment the world could fall."

"You make it sound so dangerous," Morgana scoffed, but Drusilla shook her head.

"Never underestimate the power of a nightmare, my dear. They can bring the mightiest men to their knees." She stood. "I will return to the camp and try all I can to help Jeremy. But for once in my life I hope my efforts will be unneeded."

"If we find the vessel, they will be," Dragoon said before anyone else could speak. "I'll destroy it myself."

"I'll come with you," Farrell volunteered. "I feel like I need to. Jeremy's my son, and I'd like to do everything I can to help him."

One by one, they stood up and left the little spot in the woods, Drusilla turning towards the west to the camp, and the other five trotting quickly south, eager to reach Camelot's walls as quickly as possible.

* * *

And there you are. Hopefully that was a clear, coherent explanation. Please tell me what you thought: I'm always looking to improve my writing:)

**kitkat**: What made them decide to go with three episodes? It's agonizing! Thanks for the review!

**Loves to read books**: Thank you!


	11. A Child's Savior

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN: **Enjoy;)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**: A Child's Savior

As they walked, Merlin remembered hearing the story for the first time himself.

"It was a few years ago," Jeremy had said quietly. "Father and I had gone to the city for supplies, and there you were! You were being led to the dungeons for enchanting the prince. Dragoon the Great you were called . . . but I knew you were Emrys."

He had explained everything, and it had made sense! The amnesia, the things they thought were memories—The Dragoon that sat before them was one of Jeremy's dreams.

"But how did Dragoon know my name, if you didn't?" Merlin had asked the young boy.

"Everyone knows that Emrys is not your _real_ name," Jeremy answered, as if it were obvious. "So I knew you had another name that you went by. I imagined it was some sort of great secret, that you told no one."

That explained Dragoon's reaction when Merlin had 'guessed' his name.

"And the memories?"

The boy shrugged. "What, can't you see the future?"

He'd been most surprised to hear that Merlin could not and, moreover, did not want to.

Dragoon's reaction had been the most surprising part of it. He'd become quieter and quieter throughout the whole conversation, his eyes dropping more frequently to the fire. But of course, he had been hearing about how his whole existence was a dream, a sham, that in a way he was not even a real person. Merlin hadn't known what to say to comfort him. But he felt desperately sad for the poor man, and a little relieved: this meant that Dragoon would _not_ have to leave!

He felt a little selfish for thinking that, but there you are. It's not easy to be Emrys.

Merlin looked at Dragoon now, in the pale light of the full moon, and saw that he was still sad but that there was a little anger mixed in as well.

"You alright?" he whispered, not sure what else to say.

Dragoon seemed to come out of a dream. "I'm fine," he said gruffly. "Just a lot to take in, you know?"

Merlin knew. He sighed heavily, thinking about how he had felt when he had woken up. Where had that feeling of peace and contentment come from? Because it certainly wasn't in tune with how the rest of his day had gone.

Arthur, walking on the other side of and a little bit in front of Merlin, looked back in confusion. He said, quietly, "By the way, I forgot to ask: what did you want to discuss with me?"

Dragoon blinked. "Oh, that. Actually, er . . . everything we didn't talk about back there, Merlin told me. So it's alright."

Arthur looked at his manservant, unbelieving. "Merlin!"

"What?" Merlin protested. "It's not like he wanted to know any state secrets!"

They walked in silence for a while after that, until Farrell voiced what they had all been thinking, but didn't really want to discuss. "So, what are we going to do when we get to Camelot? How are we going to defeat the beast?"

"It was wounded," Arthur pointed out. "And a nice wound, too."

"Yeah, well, that was lucky shot, I managed to get in close," Farrell replied. "Plus, I had a magic sword, which I neglected to bring with me."

"Did you manage to land a hit on it, Arthur?" Merlin wondered, but Arthur shook his head.

"My sword just bounced off."

Merlin wanted to say that it could not just be magic swords then, since Arthur's was one, but deemed it unwise.

"You know, I've been thinking about it, actually," Dragoon spoke up. "I'm not sure, but I might have an answer."

"Yeah? And what would that be?" Morgana asked, almost hostile. As they'd moved closer and closer to the city, she'd become increasingly dark and silent.

Dragoon ignored her tone and turned to Merlin. "When you had a nightmare as a child, who was always able to chase the bad images away?"

Merlin frowned. "My mother, I guess."

"And what about you, Arthur?"

"When I was really little, I would go see my father, but as I got older I had to deal with them myself."

"What about you, Farrell? Morgana?"

The Druid thought. "My parents, I suppose."

"My father, too," Morgana answered. "Until he died, anyway."

Dragoon nodded, satisfied. "Exactly. Now, out of all the Druids in the whole entire camp, who was the only one able to hurt the monster?"

They all turned to look at Farrell. He seemed confused.

"How does that make sense?" he asked.

"The monster is—or was—Jeremy's nightmare, Farrell. Of course he would imagine that his parents could save him from it."

"So you're the only one who can kill the nightmare?" Arthur nodded slowly. "Well then."

"Makes things easier," Morgana mused.

"It most certainly does not!" Merlin said. "Though, it makes things less complicated."

"No, I mean, now that I know how to kill the monster," Morgana said, "I don't need the three of you."

Then she did the smart thing—or maybe it was the stupid thing, depends on how you look at it—and threw her first spell at Dragoon, perhaps hoping to take out the most powerful in the group.

Arthur must have been expecting it, because he tackled the older man; the spell missed him by about an inch. Merlin grabbed Farrell and yanked him into the bushes.

Morgana, thwarted for a moment, gave a cry of frustration and reached down to grab the Druid, but had to reel back quickly to avoid Merlin's boot in her face. By then Dragoon had recovered from being smushed against the floor—though he had not regained his feet—and he pushed her backwards without a word. Excalibur rang out of its scabbard.

Morgana pulled herself upright with a wince, glaring at her adversaries. She had thought if she acted quickly she might take them by surprise, but obviously Arthur had had the same thought.

She pointed a finger at Dragoon. "I'll be seeing you again," she threatened, then turned and swept into the night. Arthur stepped after her, but Merlin cried, "Leave her, Arthur! She'll be back."

Arthur sheathed his sword in one impatient gesture, then he and Farrell helped Dragoon stand. The old warlock winced and held his arm where it had hit the ground.

"Let's go, if we want to be there by dawn," Arthur said, and with one unreadable glance in the direction his half-sister had gone, he walked away.

* * *

**kitkat: **Thank you!

Please review!


	12. Bang

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie

**AN:** This is the penultimate chapter. For those of you who never read _A Series of Unfortunate Events_, that means next-to-last. Enjoy:)

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**: Bang

The plan to stop the monster had failed miserably. Nothing the Knights had done would penetrate the monster's skin or even slow it down. It seemed to have a single-minded determination to reach the gates of Camelot as swiftly as possible. Perhaps it was this narrowness of focus that had made it so that none of the Knights had been killed.

"We have to get to the city before it," Leon, about two hours before dawn, had paused in his attack to tell Gwaine. "That's all we can do. You go, ride on as fast as you can, and warn the people-it's our only chance."

So Gwaine had obeyed and ridden as fast as his flagging horse would allow him, but he had met the beast on the way. It had dashed him from his mount and, slithering, crept away.

He had believed in that moment that all was lost, and he had almost been right. When the Knights finally reached the city, it was in an uproar. The monster had climbed the wall and was raining terror on the lower town. Gwaine sought out the captain of the guard and asked for a report.

"It was a normal night, other than the fact the king had run off that morning," the man explained. "The first warning we had was when all the animals started acting up, barking and neighing and stamping about-but we didn't think too much of it. Thought there must be wolves wandering close. But then this spike comes whistling over our heads and buries itself in the citadel, right there. That would have taken a nice bit of power to launch it so far, I tell ya. But then it started shaking and it exploded-That's when we knew we was in for some trouble."

Gwaine eyed the nice-sized hole in the wall of the castle, started to turn away, and did a double-take. "Wait," he said, seizing the retreating captain by the arm. "Is that where I think it is?"

The captain nodded. "Yes, sir. That's the King's room. The place was destroyed."

The knight began hyperventilating. "But . . . the queen . . ."

"Oh, don't worry, sir!" the captain cried. "The queen was not in the room when it happened. I actually don't know where she was. But with the king gone, I can't imagine her wanting to sleep in such a large room alone."

There was no time for Gwaine to find Gwen and assure himself that she was perfectly alright, for the monster was advancing, but it turned out his going and actively searching was not required; Gwen found him. She was, of course, helping Gaius in the infirmary, and if there was one thing a monster of the sort Jeremy had dreamed up was good at, it was sending people to the infirmary.

"Hurt much?" she asked sympathetically as he sat down with a groan. His lower leg had been sliced from knee to ankle, and he knew it would leave an ugly scar. "Here, let me help you with that."

"I heard what happened with your room," he told her as she cut his ruined boot off. "Sorry 'bout that; we should have been here sooner. Where were you, anyway?"

She smiled, a little embarrassed. "I was in Merlin's room; didn't want to be alone. Lucky thing, too."

"Yeah, lucky that Arthur was gone," Gwaine mused. "Ow! Not so tight!"

As the sky lightened with the coming of dawn, one of the guards came in, bed-draggled, tired, stained, and looking completely shocked. "The king's back!" he announced to the room, where Gwaine was just starting to protest that he was fit enough to fight again. The queen stood up straight and let out a little noise. "And he's, erm, brought a few people back with him?"

"Merlin?" Gaius asked hurriedly, his eyebrows almost touching.

"Yes, and-"

"What about Dragoon? Is there any news of him?" the physician interrupted, looking anxious.

"Well, that's what I was about to say," the guard replied awkwardly. "The sorcerer Dragoon has returned with the king. Oh, and there's a Druid, too."

That sorted it: Gwaine was definitely not staying in the infirmary after that revelation. He, Gwen, and Gaius all hurried out to meet them. The small group of four was in an intense conversation with Leon and Percival, but it was interrupted by Gwen throwing her arms around Arthur's neck.

"I'm so glad you're safe!" she sighed. Gwaine and Dragoon eyed each other from across the circle, both suspicious. Gaius just looked incredulously between the two warlocks.

"Oh, and sorry, your room's been destroyed," Leon told Arthur apologetically, then explained what had happened. Merlin drew in a deep breath at the end and asked, almost excitedly, "So Arthur would have been killed if he'd been in Camelot?"

Leon frowned. "Well, yes, but-"

Merlin didn't listen to the rest of the sentence, just glanced at Dragoon. He seemed vaguely impressed about something.

"We don't have much time," Farrell hinted softly, bouncing up on the balls of his feet. "We only have until dawn."

"What happens at dawn?" Leon questioned sharply.

"Actually, that's a good question," Arthur said, turning. "You all said that dawn was an important moment, but everyone neglected to say why, exactly."

"Jeremy saw something happening at dawn," Farrell explained. "He couldn't say exactly what, but if the monster hasn't been defeated by then, I fear we may never kill it."

"Jeremy?" Gwaine asked, but he was rebuffed with "Long story." He really hated that excuse.

"So, you four will find the vessel and destroy it," Arthur began, gesturing the general direction of Merlin, Dragoon, Gwen, and Gaius, but then the latter broke in-

"Vessel?"

Arthur hesitated. "Merlin can explain. Meanwhile, the rest of us will attack the beast and try and allow Farrell to strike the killing blow. Work for everyone?"

He didn't wait for answers, but ordered them all to work. Gaius started bombarding Merlin with quiet questions the second they were out of earshot, and Leon pointed out the direction the monster was last engaged.

Gwaine lingered and watched as Merlin and Dragoon set out, looking contemplative. He turned to Arthur and said, "Have you thought that those two look like-"

"No," Arthur interrupted. "And I don't think you should think about it either." He gave the knight a warning, significant look, then walked off. Gwaine held back a smirk and followed.

* * *

Gaius couldn't very well talk freely in front of Gwen, who was shooting Dragoon curious looks every step, but it was very easy for Merlin to tell the bare truth and then let Gaius fill in what he wasn't saying. The physician eyed the sorcerer as they entered his chambers.

"I see," he said. "That's very powerful magic, it shouldn't take us long to find the vessel. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't find it myself. But then, she did have so many magical artifacts."

The chaotic mess from the previous morning was gone, replaced by neat, orderly stacks and organized piles of like material. Merlin and Dragoon could feel the magical energy radiating from Beatrice's old possessions.

"Where do we start?" Gwen asked, eyeing the objects.

"Pick a pile, any pile," Merlin replied. "We're looking for a box-unpainted, I think-about this big."

"Bring it to me when it's found," Dragoon ordered darkly. Gwen raised her eyebrows, but something in his voice stopped any objections.

Unsurprisingly, the box was found easily by Merlin. The four crowded around and looked at it. It was identical to Drusilla's vessel, except it was whole and undamaged.

"Funny, isn't it?" Merlin mused. "Beatrice and Drusilla used these identical boxes to create their vessels, each without consulting the other. How did that happen, I wonder?"

None of the others answered, but Merlin didn't mind. It'd been a rhetorical question anyway.

Dragoon took it from Merlin's hands and dropped it on the floor. "Stand back," he said, and waited until they'd obeyed before rolling up his sleeves. The words came from him like water off of ice, smooth and clear. Softly, silently, the box fell to ash, and the three sorcerers in the room felt the spell pass away into nothingness, not with a bang, but a sigh.

For a moment, they all looked at the ashy pile, then Gwen said, "Is that it?"

"That's it," Merlin replied.

"That was easy."

Dragoon raised an eyebrow. "For you, maybe."

The ground shook suddenly. "But the monster's still out there!" she protested. "I thought-"

"The dreams that Jeremy already had will be fulfilled, but for the first time in his life, he's just a normal boy," Gaius explained. "Now, you and I must return to the infirmary."

"I'm going to help Arthur," Merlin said, and the three moved to the door.

Dragoon looked at the remains of the box for just a second more, before turning and following the man that was both him and not him.

* * *

**kitkat: **Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Please review! I'll have the last chapter up soon;)


	13. Knight, Death, and the Devil

**Title: **Where Nightmares Come True

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating:** T

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

**Spoilers:** Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

**Warnings:** Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

**Disclaimer: **Here's looking at you, BBC.

**Beta:** DeleaMarie (may her hair grow perfectly-Thanks!:)

**AN:** My readers, this is the last chapter. Enjoy! . . . and please don't kill me for the ending.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**: Knight, Death, and the Devil

Facing the monster the first time had been terrifying, but Arthur hadn't really had much of a choice in the meeting. It had been thrust upon him.

Facing it for the second time, knowing what it was and what it could do, and knowing how he would feel, took a lot of Arthur's courage. He later thought that it shouldn't have taken so much, but that's Arthur for you.

He still didn't feel like he had much of a choice. Because there was something that scared him a lot more than facing the nightmare.

They had it trapped in a relatively open square near the gate to the citadel. Twenty knights and more than fifty soldiers battled it, hemming it in. The news that only Farrell could kill it had passed around, and everyone had rallied around that. Swords blunted and maces flew back into their owner's faces upon meeting the skin of the beast, but here was a man that could save them. They clung to that hope, and welcomed Farrell despite his heritage.

There was just one small problem: Farrell was not a warrior. How he had even managed to hurt the monster in the first place, Arthur didn't know. The man had no instincts, talent, skill, _anything_. He was lucky he survived the first ten seconds. Arthur was sure he was refraining from using magic, and for that the king was grateful, but it was still aggravating.

And then, something even worse happened.

"WHAT. Are you _doing_ here?" Arthur almost snarled as he was pulling one of the injured soldiers away and looked up to see who was assisting him.

"Helping," Merlin said shortly. "Since you obviously don't have eyes." Though Arthur would never have admitted it, he was grateful for the help; his arm was starting to ache again.

"And Dragoon-?" Arthur began, but was answered by a flash of light.

Unlike Farrell, Dragoon the Great had no qualms about using magic in Camelot. He pulled out the flashiest and loudest spells in his memory to distract the monster, make it rear so that Farrell could reach its heart. But the spells also distracted everyone else. Half of the soldiers now directed their attentions to Dragoon, unsure as to whether he was a new threat.

The monster threw itself backwards, crushing a wall and the house behind it. Farrell rushed forward to take advantage, but it snapped at him, barely missing his head. Merlin and Arthur gulped simultaneously.

"That strategy isn't working," Arthur muttered, moving forward, but a spike impaled the ground at his feet, and Merlin yanked him backwards in anticipation of the explosion-but the nightmare was too distracted. Small mercies.

But then, the worst of all. Farrell tripped.

Arthur almost groaned. _Pacifist Druids,_ he cursed, but the nightmare wasted no time in thinking. It lunged forward and trapped Farrell under its claw. The spikes crowning the center head bristled and one pointed directly at him.

In that moment, Arthur's heart nearly stopped. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, but his world was darkening, narrowing to one point.

The spike flew.

Dragoon jumped.

* * *

If a sorcerer steps in front of an arrow to stop its flight, everyone always asks, "Well, why didn't you just stop it with _magic_?!"

Good question. The answer is that most magic requires thought, and stepping in front of arrows is usually an action that precedes thought.

Merlin thought about this a lot, later. The image of his older self jumping in front of the spike was one that stayed with him for the rest of his life, and every time it came to him he had to stop for a moment and rid his mind of the image. There is just something totally other about watching yourself get pierced through, a feeling like nothing else. Merlin was sure he would never feel something like that again, and how could he? Not many people have the opportunity of watching themselves like that.

* * *

For a moment, Merlin didn't move, too stunned to do anything. The monster, getting over the disappointment of missing its intended target, fixed its eyes on Dragoon.

Merlin knew what would happen next, and he was not having it. He jumped forward, missing Sir Leon by an inch, and, by pure instinct, _pushed_ the monster backwards. No words, nothing, just a push with his mind. It was weak, but it was enough. The nightmare shrieked and reared back, not injured but hurt, exposing the dark wound on its belly. The claw holding Farrell down rose again.

Farrell took his chance and leapt up, dashing closer as the monster backed away. The wound he had already given it was in plain view-and reach-and he aimed for it, because it was a spot that was already weak. The sword went in, all the way up the hilt, and Farrell threw himself away again as the nightmare registered pain. Everyone drew away from it as it thrashed around in agony. One of the heads grabbed the sword and ripped it out, but that only made it worse. Blood dripped out the wound and the creature's mouth, blood as dark as its heart.

Merlin didn't seem to notice; he was kneeling by Dragoon, trying to save him. In his whole life, he had never felt so useless, not even when Arthur had been hurt in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He felt his ignorance of magical healing more keenly than ever before.

Dragoon grabbed Merlin's hand tightly, trembling. "Merlin, listen to me," he breathed, his voice almost too faint to be heard.

Merlin sobbed, "Just hold still! Oh, why am I so rubbish at healing spells?!"

"Merlin, I need you to listen."

The young warlock could hardly see Dragoon through his tears, but he knew it was too late to save him. The best he could do was obey him.

"There can never be two Emryses," the old warlock said laboriously. "This world wasn't meant to take it. This is the Old Religion balancing itself out."

Merlin knew this to be true, but the truth was hard to accept. "I wish you could have stayed," he choked between his tears. He didn't even notice one of the heads weave over him for a moment, twisting, before flying away again.

"It would have been nice to have some real memories for the first time," Dragoon agreed, his breath coming faster and quicker, "but it's too late now."

Suddenly, his grip tightened, and he spoke urgently. "One of these days, you'll have to tell Arthur, or he'll find out. It'll have to be soon." Gulping, Dragoon whispered, "Merlin, if Arthur rejects you, if your friendship means nothing to him, then he's not worth it, do you understand me? He was never worth it."

Merlin didn't have the heart to disagree. He wasn't even sure if he should disagree.

"You think you're the pawn of destiny, but destiny is just the blueprint," Dragoon insisted. "You're the one who draws it. Destiny said you were to be at Arthur's side, but you and no one else decided to not be a chicken."

He had to force his next words out, slowly and precisely. "Now go-and don't-be-an idiot."

* * *

After it was all over, Arthur found Merlin kneeling next to Dragoon's body with a strange, contemplative expression. Slowly, the king crouched down next to his manservant and looked at Merlin's hand, which was still resting on Dragoon's.

"He saved Farrell's life," Arthur said softly, "and with him, the rest of Camelot. He will be honored for that."

Merlin took in a deep breath, coming back to life as it were. "Yes," he murmured. "I'm . . . glad."

The strange look was still there, so Arthur popped a hand onto Merlin's shoulder and asked, "So, was Gwaine right? Are you related to him?" He wasn't sure he would have believed Merlin even if he'd said no.

Merlin tilted his head back and smiled. "Related to him? I guess you could say that. Though I'm not sure if it's possible to be related to yourself."

Arthur took a moment to think at that, decided it made absolutely no sense, and said, "What are you talking about, Merlin? Nonsense again?"

When Merlin met his eyes, he looked nervous and jittery, but his voice was calm, almost amused, as he said, "Oh, Arthur, do I have a story and a half to tell you . . ."

**"They've promised that dreams can come true-but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too." **

**— Oscar Wilde**

_**The End**_

* * *

No, for reals, that's the end! We all know what happens next, I really don't need to tell you. Thanks to everyone that reviewed and favorited and stuff. Now if you could all do me a favor and tell me what you thought of the story in general. Is there anything you think I could do better? Who was your favorite character? Least favorite? What was your favorite part? Least favorite? Was anyone OOC? I'm looking to improve my writing here, so any feedback would be lovely:)

_That's all, folks_! ;)


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